


Fate, or Something

by Mcusekat



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Getting Together, M/M, pre crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 18:04:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4797071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mcusekat/pseuds/Mcusekat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you the Vagabond?” he asked suddenly. Ryan looked up from his drink, then nodded.</p>
<p>“Yep.”</p>
<p>Ray buried his face in his hands. “Jesus fucking Christ I’m the unluckiest man in all of Los Santos,” he groaned. </p>
<p>There was nearly 100 houses on this street alone, and of all the houses he could’ve broken into, he chose the fucking Vagabond’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The (un)Luckiest Man in All of Los Santos

  Ray was having a bad night.

  Though he seemed to have a lot of those nowadays. It wasn’t easy being a lowly criminal in Los Santos. It was like a pond; only the big fish survived while the smaller ones got fucked. Only there was fucking sharks in the pond and even the big fish got fucked.

  He was hard up for cash. His drug suppliers got got and now he was unemployed. He was hungry, and his shitty apartment didn’t have an air conditioner and goddamn if he’d go without that in fucking California.

  So there he was, bobby pin in hand picking a lock to some random house in suburbia, Los Santos.

  This house had a serious security system, but Ray’s specialty was unlocking things people didn’t want being unlocked. Everyone had to have some skill in the job that set them apart from the rest.

  The door clicked open and he slowly turned the handle. The driveway was empty and he was praying whoever owned this house wasn’t one of the three people in the world who actually used their garage the way it was meant to be used.

  The house was quiet. Ray crept through, bag in hand, looking for anything he could sell for some good cash. The house was weirdly barren, though. He knew someone lived here: there was a couch and a pretty decent sized tv (too big for stealing, tragically), but he didn’t see any personal artifacts, like family photos or trinkets from vacations or anything. The shelves on the entertainment center were empty, the bookshelf only having one row of books and then just dust.

  He crept into the hallway. The first door he entered was a study. Pushed against the wall facing out the window was a laptop. The drawers were mostly empty, with just an unopened pack of Bic pens, which Ray took. There was a laptop, nearly brand new and higher end. He gathered the charging cord and the laptop itself and put it in his duffel.

  The next room was locked and the room after was a bathroom, so he skipped both. The final room was a bedroom.

  The dresser only had clothes, nothing hidden under the underwear or anything like that. Ray was starting to get creeped out. The place was like a hospital without all the drugs, just the necessities, nothing to make it feel like home. Even the bed was just white sheets, white pillow case. No pictures on the walls, or posters, or cheesy art. Just barren white wall. Ray couldn’t imagine living in such an impersonal home, and it was creepy that someone did.

  Frustrated, he went after the locked room. It only took a minute to pick the lock. He swung the door open, excited to see what was so coveted that the owner locked the door to protect it.

  Until he saw what was inside.

  Rows of guns. They lined the left and right walls on pegs, lovingly displayed with the utmost care. There had to be at least 200, and that was just the big ones. On the wall before him there was two safes full of god knows what. There was stacks of ammo, too, organized in boxes neatly labelled with the caliber.

  Ray considered turning around and leaving. This was out of his element and he was in a possibly dangerous situation if the owner of these guns came home. After a moment, though, he decided, fuck it, and broke into the safes. It was pretty easy, actually. The guy had the cheap ones from K-Mart or Wal Mart. Ray wasn’t sure if this meant he was stupid or confident.

  The first safe was various handguns and silencers. The second was knives of various shapes and sizes. One was as tall as Ray, and some were skinny and razor sharp. The most heavily used one looked like a hunting knife. The handle, gold at the metal bits and wood at the grip, was heavily worn down and covered in a faded cloth to improve the grip. The blade had obviously been sharpened several times.

  This man was a hunter, Ray told himself, but he knew that was a lie. This was Los Santos, and the owner of this house was one of the sharks in the pond.

  Ray placed the knife back in it’s place and started moving towards the door. He suddenly felt scared, like he needed to get out now.

  When he heard the front door he briefly decided to abandon his career as a thief and become the best damn psychic in Los Santos.

  The man was whistling as he walked in. Ray recognized the tune as a classical orchestral piece, which made him 1000x more scared than he’d been previous. He felt like he was in some Hannibal Lecter movie.

  When the man passed by the door he smelled the warm metallic scent of blood and he cringed back. His stomach lurched and he had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep from heaving.

  He heard the bedroom door open at the end of the hall and Ray thought about making a break for it then. Silently, he pushed the door open and scanned the hallway, then crept out silently, silently, but quickly. He was so close to getting out of the hallway, then it was outside, and he would just run until he was far away from this creep.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  Ray stopped dead in his tracks. ‘Run asshole, run!’ he told himself in his mind, but his feet and his brain wouldn’t cooperate. He cursed his survival skills.

  He stayed in place, stock still. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t even turn around to face the man that was going to kill him. He felt like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi.

  “What the hell are you doing in my house?”

  Ray turned around finally and saw the man standing before the opened hallway closet. Not a bedroom door.

  “I, uh…” Ray stammered. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his fucking chest.

  “Spit it out, what the fuck are you doing in my house?”

  “I just wanted some money, man.. I didn’t take anything. Except for your laptop.. and some pens. ” He offered the duffel bag, but the man was still standing in the hall. He set it down carefully.

  The man was quiet, deciding what to do with him.

  Before Ray could process what was happening, he was staring down the barrel of a gun.

  “Woah, man please I just wanted some cash,” he said, putting his hands up in a submissive gesture. He gulped loudly. “Please..”

  “Who sent you?” he demanded. His voice was gruff now, harsh.

  “No one, please!”

  Ray risked a glance up at the man. Ray was a little startled to see how handsome he was. Light blue eyes and 2 day stubble along his jaw. His sandy brown hair was pulled up in a bun, and a smear of blood across his neck like a smeared handprint. Ray immediately knew it wasn’t his. That was a little more attractive than it should have been, but Ray wasn’t in any position to contemplate his weird kinks.

  The man contemplated him for a second. “No one sent you? So you aren’t here to kill me. You weren’t hiding in a room full of guns and sneaking around in my house trying to kill me?”

  “Jesus man, they aren’t my fucking guns. I didn’t bring them here to murder you with. Fuck man I just wanted your money,” Ray pleaded.

  The man sighed. “You’re lucky I’ve gotten my fill of murder today,” the man said. He took a breath and his shoulders slumped. “Today’s hit took 3 bullets to the head before even slowing down. Thought I was fighting some sort of mutant.” There was a hint of humor in his tone but Ray was still staring down the barrel of a silenced handgun. It was hard to find anything funny in his situation.

  The man looked back at him, then waved his gun to his left. “Head over there,” he said. Ray obeyed, letting himself get herded to the kitchen. There was a dining table with a few chairs around it. The man pointed at one of the chairs. “Sit.”

  Ray obeyed, pulling the chair out and sitting carefully.

  “You thirsty?” the man asked. He opened the fridge and pulled out a soda.

  “Uh, no thanks,” Ray said quickly. “Thank you.”

  “Lighten up. As long as you don’t do something stupid you’ll survive the night.”

  He placed a diet Coke in front of him anyways and sat in the adjacent chair.

  “I just want to know how you got past my locks. Those fuckers cost a nice grip of money, and the man at Home Depot told me they were burglar proof.”

  “I dunno, I’m just good at picking locks.. You’ve gotta have some sort of specialty here, y’know. Lock picking is mine.”

  He looked skeptical, but shrugged his shoulders. “Alright.” The room fell into silence again. Ray looked down at the can in front of him. He was a bit thirsty. His mouth was painfully dry, but that was more from fear than dehydration. He cracked it open and took a hesitant sip.

  “I’m wondering what I should do with you. I can’t keep you hostage in my house, I don’t think killing you is necessary, but you have seen my face..”

  Ray looked up and examined him. He was wearing some black jacket with blue arms and silver bands around the forearm. It looked familiar to Ray. Suddenly, a sense of dread gathered in the pit of his gut.

  “Are you the Vagabond?” he asked suddenly. Ryan looked up from his drink, then nodded.

  “Yep.”

  Ray buried his face in his hands. “Jesus fucking Christ I’m the unluckiest man in all of Los Santos,” he groaned. There was nearly 100 houses on this street alone, and of all the houses he could’ve broken into, he chose the fucking Vagabond’s house.

  He grinned at that. “Hey, like I said, don’t do anything stupid and you’ll survive the night.” He took a sip of his cola. “And you can call me Ryan.”

  Ryan. Now he knew the Vagabond’s name. The Vagabond, with a death count in the hundreds and apparently nice azure eyes.

  “Do you have your wallet on you? Don’t lie,” Ryan said.

  Ray thought he was stupid to bring it, but his house had been broken into twice that month alone. He was regretting his decision.

  “Yes. I don’t have any money though.”

  “I don’t want your money. Give me your wallet.”

  Ray stood slowly, hands raised, and pulled his wallet out. The barrel of the gun was still trained on him.

  When his wallet was out Ryan took it. Ryan pulled out his ID card, then pocketed it.

  “You’re going to do me a favor. If you do it successfully, I won’t kill you. Sound good?”

  “Yeah! Yeah,” Ray said. “What’s, uh, the favor, if you don’t mind me asking.”

  “We’re going to rob a bank, and you’re going to unlock the bank safes.”


	2. Or Something...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finale. A super action packed bank robbery, and a super rad epilogue. Wowzers.

  Ray was scared out of his mind. His worst offense was probably breaking and entering, or drug distribution. This, the robbing of one of the biggest banks on the west coast, was on a whole fucking nother level. Not to mention the fact that Ryan was in full gear, with the creepy mask and a gun longer than Ray’s arm and probably heavier than him too.

  Ray had opted for a smaller handgun. Ryan said it didn’t have much kick, and it wasn’t that loud. He put a silencer on it too. He felt too heavy with the bullet proof vest and the holster on his belt, and he had to walk around Ryan’s living room a few times to get use to the feeling.

  They got in through the back. Ryan had somehow got past the alarm, and he walked confidently through the halls, no light needed.

  It took Ray 10 minutes to get into the door of the vault. Once they were inside Ryan handed Ray a flashlight and stood before the door.

  “Get as many open as you can. We don’t have much time before the alarm trips.”

  The vault was several hundred safe deposit boxes using several hundred different keys. Ray stood and examined the room before getting to work.

  Ryan stood completely still at the entrance. He had his gun in hand, some sort of rapid fire machine gun. He wasn’t familiar with guns. When he was a dealer he kept a glock under his shirt, but that was the extent of his gun experience.

  Each box had about $1000 in it, but the locks were pretty easy to get into. He was able to get about 20 by the time Ryan turned around and told him they had to go. He grabbed the duffel bag, now heavy, and they darted towards the entrance.

  Watching Ryan plow down the police was possibly more terrifying than robbing the bank. He was effective with his gun. It was almost more impressive than horrifying and brutal. He fired at the ensuing police officers while they ran to the getaway car.

  Ryan drove fast, and Ray decided that was scarier than everything else he’d done that night. The car was some sleek supercar, and Ryan was driving it too fast and too hard. Corners were sharp and he was sure that the wheels were off the ground more than they were on the ground.

  The police were close behind. He heard a helicopter and every once in awhile the car lit up from the spotlight. Ryan knew the streets well, and he took every alleyway and weaved easily through heavy traffic. It wasn’t long before the police were struggling to stay behind and the sirens were fading into the background noise.

  “How much did you get?” Ryan asked before jerking the wheel to the right. Ray felt his stomach in his throat.

  “At least 20 thousand,” he said unsteadily.

  “Shit, that’s not bad for your first heist,” Ryan said, looking over quickly. He braked hard and Ray jerked forward. “Get out.”

  Ray obeyed, grabbing the duffel. They were under a bridge, near the subway tunnels. Ray recognized the place, it was popular for dealers selling heavy shit. He’d been here more than once.

  Ray turned to ask Ryan why they’d stopped. He could hear the chopper, hear the sirens approaching, and he was confused. Ryan was splashing something along the sides of the car, and the scent of gasoline hit his nose immediately. He stopped at the front, lifted the hood, and poured the remainder in there.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Ray asked, and Ryan glanced over at him.

  “Getting rid of the evidence,” he said, then backed up.

  He pulled the box of matches out and lit one, and Ray stopped him.

  “Can I do it?” Ray asked hesitantly. Ryan grinned and handed him the match.

  “Of course.”

  He tossed it under the hood. The car went up immediately. Ray had half expecting it to blow up immediately, but instead it burned steadily like a campfire. It was hot on Ray’s face, and almost beautiful in the night. It never got fully dark in the city, and there was no stars, but the grey smoggy night had it’s own sort of beauty.

  It took a couple minutes, but the car did finally blow. It nearly knocked Ray off his feet but it looked cool as hell, and he couldn’t help but grin at it.

  They watched for a second after the explosion before the sirens started getting closer. Ryan placed his hand on the small of Ray’s back.

  “C’mon,” he said quietly before moving towards the subway systems.

  “Do you have something else or are we walking?” Ray asked, following him.

  Behind the dumpster he produced a motorbike. He opened up the storage place in the back and Ray shoved the duffel in as best he could. He climbed on behind Ryan and grabbed his sides loosely. Ryan grabbed his hands and pulled him forward. “You’re going to fall off the damn bike if you don’t hold on,” he said, humor in his voice.

  Ray didn’t respond, but he did tighten his grip around Ryan’s waist.

  The subway tunnels were lit by only the occasional light, and Ray was constantly fearing a subway coming through and flattening them. Ryan was a better motorcyclist than he was a driver, though, by far. Ray was actually enjoying this ride. His hair was whipping around his face wildly and the night air was bitingly cold on his face. The police sirens were getting further and further away and the knot of worry in his stomach was slowly disappearing. Instead, he felt proud, maybe a little haughty.

  They exited the tunnels and Ryan pulled into the first parking lot they found. They climbed off and stood in silence for a moment. Ray’s thoughts were scattered as the adrenaline faded, and he was realizing how serious what he’d just done was, wondering if any policemen had seen his face, praying they hadn’t.

  Suddenly, Ray was laughing. He’d survived his first police chase, just robbed a lot of money from a very prestigious bank with one of the most infamous criminals in America, and he was alive!

  Ryan watched him, smiling. When Ray gathered himself Ryan asked “So how was that for your first bank robbery?”

  “Fucking scary. But fun,” Ray said. He placed a hand over his stomach. “You’re the worst driver ever.”

  “Why? I’m not stopping for traffic lights and shit when the police are shooting at us,” he said, grinning still. Ray felt something in his stomach flutter at that. He was gorgeous, really, and somehow even sexier after everything they’d just done.

  “Yeah, but you didn’t have to take those corners so hard. I probably got fucking whiplash,” Ray said, rubbing his neck for emphasis.

  “Alright, next time I’ll try to go slower.”

  Ray’s heart flipped at next time. Ryan wanted to work with him again? It sounded stupid, and he’d probably been almost shot that day enough for a lifetime. However, it was exciting, thrilling, and he honestly couldn’t wait for a next time.

  “Next time?” he asked, smiling.

  “Sure, if you want there to be,” he said, shrugging.

  “I’m down,” Ray said nonchalantly, but his stomach was fluttering with the promise.

  “Do you want to celebrate your first heist?” Ryan asked. Ray couldn’t be sure, since it was so dim in the parking lot, but he would swear Ryan’s eyes slid over his body. Ray felt a shift in the mood of the conversation.

  “I don’t drink,” Ray said cautiously. He didn’t think that was what Ryan meant.

  “Neither do I. I was thinking something along the lines of sex, if you’re down,” Ryan said, smirking a little. Ray’s cheeks flushed.

  “Yeah! Yeah, I’m down,” Ray stammered. “Uh, isn’t your place a ways away?”

  “Is your house nearby?”

  “Yeah, actually,” he said, smiling.

  It took 10 minutes to get to Ray’s house. Ray thought it was possibly the longest 10 minutes of his life, but when Ryan pressed him against the door to kiss him, it all became worth it.

  Ryan was warm. His fingers hiked up his shirt and traced over Ray’s skin, leaving tingling trails in their wake. He didn’t want to pull away, but he also didn’t want his neighbors to complain about two people making out against the front door so he did.

  When they got inside Ray led Ryan to his bedroom and they fell into the bed.

  Ray found himself on his back with Ryan on top of him. His mouth found his neck immediately, and Ray tilted his head aside to accept the kiss.

  “Do you mind if I leave a mark?” Ryan asked.

  “Please do,” Ray breathed, hands coming up to tangle in Ryan’s hair.

  Ryan’s mouth was hot against his neck. He almost instantly found the most sensitive spot, a little under the ear behind his jaw, and he started to nip and bite the skin. He adjusted his position, supporting his weight with one arm, to continue his exploration of Ray’s body with the other.

  Ray wasn’t a virgin by any means, but he hadn’t had sex in a very long time. Because of this, his body felt overstimulated. Every touch was like electricity across his skin, and he couldn’t help but lean into it.

  Ryan sat up and traced a finger along the blooming mark. Ray shuddered at the possessive look in his eyes, his azure blue eyes. “Fuck, Ryan,” he gasped, rolling his hips up to meet Ryan’s. Ryan’s eyes fluttered shut at the friction.

  Ryan sat up suddenly, and reached to pull his shirt off. Ray’s hands followed, tracing up the newly bare skin of Ryan’s torso. He was lean, with a smattering of sandy colored hair across his broad chest and down his abdomen into the waist of his jeans.

  Ryan tugged at the bottom of Ray’s shirt. “Sit up for a moment,” he said, and Ray obeyed, letting his shirt get removed. Ryan leaned down and kissed his lips, then moved gradually lower and lower, kissing a line down his body.

  Ray gasped when Ryan reached his navel. His breath was hot on the sensitive skin, even more so when he tugged Ray’s jeans down to expose the base of his cock.

  “I want to suck you off,” Ryan said, looking up to meet Ray’s eyes.

  Ray moaned. “Please,” he said.

  Ryan pulled off Ray’s jeans the rest of the way, then ran a hand along his length gently, skin barely coming into contact with skin.

  “Rye-” he gasped, arching into Ryan’s fist for friction.

  Ryan grinned, then leaned down. He placed a hand under Ray’s knee and pulled it up, exposing his inner thigh. He ducked down and ran his mouth along the skin, up to the the conjunction. He sucked lightly at the skin until a bruise bloomed over his dark skin.

  Ray felt like he was going to explode. He reached out and palmed his dick, trying to release the tension but Ryan batted his hand away.

  “Be patient,” he scolded, then ran his hand up his length again. His thumb brushed off the bead of precum gathering at the tip. He placed his thumb in his mouth, tasting it.

  “Fuck,” he groaned, and Ryan grinned.

  He leaned down, running his tongue flat over his cock, then took it all in his mouth in one go. Ray grasped the bed sheets and watched him. His long hair fell around him like a curtain, and Ray reached out and tangled his fingers in the soft locks.

  It was an embarrassingly short time before Ray was gasping “I’m coming,” and tugging gently at Ryan’s hair. Ryan didn’t pull off completely, swallowing all the cum with ease. Ray watched, incredulous. He whined when Ryan pulled off, tongue dragging up his length once more.

  “Jesus Christ,” Ray muttered, catching his breath. Ryan moved up to kiss him and Ray accepted, kissing him back lazily. The taste of himself should’ve been disgusting, but he found it fairly sexy.

  “Was that good?” Ryan asked, humor in his tone.

  Ray grinned. “Fucking incredible,” Ray said. He leaned up to kiss Ryan again, hands travelling down to undo Ryan’s jeans. He stuck his hand in as soon as he could, and Ryan moaned against his mouth.

  “Lay on your back,” Ray said and moving to change positions.

  Ryan’s moan were the best thing Ray’s ever heard. Deep, and sultry, and Ray would never admit it but he got slightly hard again just listening to Ryan come.

  When Ryan pulled him into a final, sleepy kiss Ray felt an airy feeling in his stomach. He grinned against Ryan’s lips before letting himself get pulled down. Ryan spooned him, burying his face in his back and holding him against his body.

  “This wasn’t a- was this a one time thing? Like, what are we now?” Ray asked.

  “What do you want to be?” Ryan asked.

  Ray thought on that. “I don’t know yet,” he replied, “But I would like to do that again. A lot.”

  Ryan chuckled. “That’s fine, we don’t have to put a label on anything,” he said. “Right now, let’s sleep.”

~

  Ray wasn’t sure what they wanted to be until nearly a year later. It wasn’t during a heist or sex or anything. It was when they were sitting on Ryan’s couch post hit, just resting. It was a simple convenience store robbery, more out of boredom than necessity.

  It was a lazy day. There was a cold front rolling in from Alaska, so the whole city was sitting in front of the heaters. Cars on the roads were few, and it was quieter than Ray and Ryan were accustomed to.

  “Remember a year ago when I was holding a gun to your head right there?” Ryan asked as he looked over to the side of the couch.

  That elicited a laugh from Ray, and he burrowed himself closer into Ryan’s side.

  “What will we tell the children when they ask how we met?”

  Ryan chuckled. “We’ll tell them it was fate.”

  "Fate?”

  Ryan shrugged. “Or something.”

  Ray smiled, leaning into Ryan’s chest. The shades were drawn and the room was dim. In the time they’d been together they’d already done nearly 50 heists. Most of them were small, hits or convenience store robberies, but the big ones were big enough that they’d both become rather infamous in the city. They’d even been approached by an up and coming crew to join. They’d both become more cautious. Ryan had taught Ray how to shoot, taught him where to aim if he wanted to kill. Ray felt overwhelmed sometimes, but Ryan was good at taking care of him when things got bad.  

  Ray stood quietly and tugged Ryan’s hand to lead him to the bedroom. Ryan followed without question.

  When they got in Ray turned on the heater and slid into bed, and Ryan followed. He wrapped his arms around Ray, holding him close to ward off the cold.

  “Let’s get married,” Ray said.

  “Sure,” Ryan said, burying his face in Ray’s neck. Ray tilted his head to give him room without thinking. “We can start a family too. 2 kids and a dog, white picket fence. The whole 9.”

  “You aren’t down for the domestic life? Or do you have someone on the side that I don’t know about.”

  “We’re criminals. And, according to the government, I’m dead,” Ryan said, ending his sentence with a kiss to Ray’s shoulder.

  “Well, you can still buy me a ring and an expensive gown,” Ray said, turning in Ryan’s arms. “Then we can honeymoon in Italy. Or have nonstop sex in an expensive hotel room while never exploring Italy.”

  Ryan smiled, then kissed him. “Or I buy you a ring and we go somewhere less expensive than Italy.”

  Ray smiled, wrapping his arms around Ryan’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss. “Can I call you husband?”

  Ryan grinned, pulling him on top of him by the hips. “Only if I can call you husband.” Ryan’s hand moved down to the waistband of Ray’s sweats.

  “I love you, husband,” Ray said, humor in his tone.

  “I love you too, husband,” Ryan said, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this! It actually got a lot more kudos than I was expecting just on the first part! It made me super super happy to see that! Come talk to me on my [Tumblr](http://desertsongs.co.vu) or leave a comment down below. Thanks for all the support for this fic, and I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!


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